To be Immortal In L.A.
by Lajk24
Summary: Richie takes a trip to LA, and makes some interesting new friends. A crosover with Angel: The Series. Now Complete! (Plus some revisions of earlier chapters). Please R
1. Nightime Meetings

This is a crossover between Angel (set in Series 1) and Highlander (Series 2 or 3). If you are familiar with one programme and not the other, here's a quick run-down.  
Angel - Angel 250-year-old vampire with a soul who lives in LA, working to solve people's problems in order to redeem himself against all the cruelty he's committed. Runs a detective agency together with Cordelia and Doyle, who gets visions from The Powers That Be as to who helps their help.  
  
Highlander - The Highlander is Duncan MacLeod, born 400 years ago and Immortal. Doesn't age, his body heals all injuries and he can only die if his head is cut off. One problem, lots of other Immortals want his head so that they can win the Prize, the ultimate power of all Immortals. Richie Ryan is Duncan's student and also an Immortal.  
  
Disclaimer: I own no-one. All characters and concepts are the property of various Powers That Be (You know who they!). I mean no harm and am making no money from this.  
  
Feedback - Yes please. E-mail me at lajk24@hotmail.com, visit my web-site at www.the-word.freeservers.com, or at least write a quick review. Thanks. I hope you enjoy!  
Chapter One:  
  
  
Somewhere between Seacouver and Los Angeles:  
  
Ah, the thrill of the open road! The wind in your hair (when you weren't wearing a helmet, of course), the sun on your back, and your motorbike eating up the miles like the little dots in the old pacman games. Richie Ryan grinned to himself as he sped down the highway. It was early afternoon and Seacouver was miles behind him. He was now officially on his own, and on holiday. He'd decided to go and see LA, it being a place he'd never seen. Having been to New York, Paris and even London, LA was next on his list of must-see places. He still couldn't believe all the places he'd seen, how much he'd learnt in the past few years. He always imagined he'd never leave Seacouver. Tessa had certainly put paid to that plan. He smiled at the thought of the woman who had been the second closest person to a mother he'd ever had. She had somehow managed the impossible, and installed some kind of culture in a street punk. Now, he had to admit, one of the good things about immortality was being able to travel and learn, experience. LA! Maybe he'd meet some beautiful actresses, run into a movie star or two. Yeah right, Ryan, he told himself, the only beautiful women you're bound to meet are the kind who carry long swords and want to kill you! But nothing could spoil his holiday mood. After months of hard work at the dojo, he deserved a break, and he was determined to enjoy himself.  
  
  
Downtown Los Angeles, early evening:  
  
"Doyle! You're supposed to be rehearsing with me, not rewriting the script!" Cordelia Chase yelled at her friend.  
"Sorry, Cordy. It's just this script is so…I mean, I could better. I just did! Why did you even take this job?"  
"Yeah, well, they probably won't be listening to the words…Don't look at me like that, you know as well as anyone what these sun-lotion commercials are like. This is LA, and I am trying to be an actress".  
"Yeah, but, princess, that's…that's them. That's not you. Besides, I thought you said they wouldn't be looking at your acting".  
"Doyle, there's acting and there's acting", Cordelia replied, looking down her nose at him, "and in case you hadn't noticed, demon-killing? Not a well-paid profession". She glared at him, annoyed at the conversation. When he'd offered to help her practice her lines for a commercial she was shooting the next week, she hadn't expected it to be so much, well, work.  
"Cordy…", he began. But whatever was he was going to say was overtaken by his sounds of pain. Clutching his head with one hand, he reached for a chair to steady himself with the other.  
"Not a way to win an argument, Doyle".  
"Arrgghh. Vision, Cordy, vision", he replied, starting to come out of it.  
"Oh. Right, of course. Sorry. I'll…I'll get some pain-killers".  
"So, what did you see?" she asked as he sat down and swallowed the tablets.  
"A guy. About 20 years old. Short, curly red hair. Versus a sword-wielding psycho and gets chopped to pieces." He took a deep breath.  
Cordelia shuddered at the thought.  
"Demon?" she asked.  
"Who, the kid or the maniac?"  
"Ha, ha".  
"Dunno. Looked pretty human actually, but looks can be deceptive. Whatever, it looks like TPTB wants us to help".  
"Yeah. So, what time did Angel say he'd be back?"  
  
  
Richie strolled out of the coffee shop, wondering if there were any cheap motels not too far away. He'd arrived in downtown LA in early evening and had decided to grab a coffee and sandwich before even starting to think about where to spend the night. It wasn't that late but he was worried about finding a place that wasn't already full. He looked around him. Wow, LA! Ok, so this was the less desirable part, but he could cope with that. It still looked pretty good from where he was standing. Tomorrow, he told himself, he'd go find a couple of cute young actresses.   
  
Lost in thought Richie almost didn't notice the tall, thin man who seemed to suddenly appear out of the surrounding shadows.  
"Hey, you got a light?"  
"Uh, no. Sorry", Richie smiled and walked on.  
"Ok, then, what about your wallet?" the man asked, grabbing Richie's arm.   
"Oh, man! Look, I haven't got much…"  
"Well, I'll take it. Oh, and while you're at it, I'll take your blood as well".   
Richie shook his arm free and turned back to face his opponent wondering what the Hell he'd gotten into now. He was faced with glowing eyes, a ridged forehead and fangs that were protruding out of a mouth that was smiling at him evilly.  
  
Meanwhile, at the other end of the street, two men rounded a corner and immediately noticed Richie. The tall one wore a long black coat and a solemn gaze. The other wore a short jacket and spoke with an Irish accent. He also didn't look too happy.  
"Shit! That's the guy from the vision!" the Irishman noted.  
"This when he gets killed?" the tall one asked.  
"I don't know. I thought it was daytime, but the visions don't come with a rule-book you know?"  
"That the other guy?"  
"No, come to think of it, I don't think so. But I'm still thinking trouble. I'm getting…"  
"Vampire", Angel finished, beginning to rush over, pulling out a stake from an inside coat pocket. Doyle followed closely, but pulled up short as both watched Richie suddenly pull out his sword and face off against the vampire who, after a minute, moved just a split-second too slowly to be beheaded.  
"I may be wrong here, but I'm guessing this guy is doing pretty well by himself".  
"Maybe. There's something funny going on here. I just can't quite put my finger on it." Angel watched Richie closely as the immortal quickly sheathed his sword and glanced around nervously to see whether anyone was watching. After a minute he turned and made eye-contact with Angel.  
"That is the guy from the vision, right? So there must be some reason why we have to help him", Angel commented to Doyle, not taking his eyes off Richie, and slowly beginning to walk towards him. Richie had started to pale visably and, as Angel advanced, his hand wavered in the direction of his inside jacket pocket. The one where he kept his sword.   
"You mean, besides the whole getting chopped to bits thing? I think he may have some insight into that, though".  
But Angel wasn't listening to Doyle anymore. He was wondering why TPTB had sent him to a guy who could so obvious defend himself against vampires and demons.  
"Nice sword", he commented.  
"Uh, yeah. Thanks. You-you saw that, huh?"  
"Yeah".  
"That man…"  
"Not a man. A vampire".  
"Really?! Shit! I mean he did have fangs, and everything…He exploded into a pile of dust!"  
"Better that than him killing you".  
"Well, I guess I kind of acted on instinct…"  
"Good instincts", Doyle commented, having come to a decision and joined them. Well, the guy didn't feel like a demon…  
"Well…" Richie shrugged.   
"Oh, man! This is too much. Vampires?! Great, Ryan, don't have enough danger and weirdness in your life already?", he told himself.  
"I'm Doyle by the way. This is Angel".  
"Oh, right. Richie Ryan…Listen, uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you two aren't…"  
"Gonna try and bite you, drink your blood…Nah. We usually just try to kill them".  
"Uh-huh. You-you get lots of, er, vampires in LA, then?"   
"You'd be surprised".  
Richie shook his head, and rubbed at his face, not believing this conversation. He wondered why was he wasn't more freaked out at this, and figured that immortality had to make you pretty open-minded. Still, this was surreal. But he didn't know what else to call the creature he'd just faced. God! He'd thought vampires were just fiction!  
"Are you alright?" asked Angel.  
"Oh, yeah. I've-I've just killed a creature I thought only existed in Anne Rice books! I'm just swell!"  
"You might be in shock. Listen, our office is near here, why don't you come and rest for a while?" Angel offered, a bit awkwardly.   
"Office? What do you guys do?"  
"We're kind of detectives, specialising in 'strange' cases. We, er, 'help the helpless'", Doyle told him.  
"Oh. Nice."  
Richie shrugged and gestured at Doyle to lead the way, figuring that if these guys were going to kill him they would have done so by now. After beheading someone who didn't produce a nice light show after loosing his head, he figured that he at least deserved a beer.  
"So", he began conversationally, as they rounded the corner, "do you guys know anywhere cheap where I could stay for a few days?" 


	2. Whereever Did You Get That Sword?

Chapter Two:  
  
Richie followed Angel and Doyle back to the office. Angel was still deep in thoughtful-and-brooding mode; Doyle was trying to make small talk; and Richie was still wondering what he'd gotten himself into and hoping that his bike wouldn't get towed away. Not surprisingly, Cordelia was still at the office, trying to come up with some research that might spread some light on the sword-wielding demon, or whatever. Doyle and Angel had gone out to patrol the neighbourhood, and she certainly wasn't expecting them to bring back a visitor. She was pleased to note, though, that said visitor didn't seem to need to a special invitation to enter the building.  
"Hi, guys", she greeted, putting down her books.   
"Hey, Cordy".  
"Hi, Cordelia. Did you find anything?" asked Angel.   
She shrugged.  
"A few references to ritual sword fights, ending with beheadings; unsolved police cases. Could be something". Angel nodded and went to look at her notes.   
"Can I get you a beer, Richie?" Doyle asked after a moment, heading for the fridge, and checking to see whether Richie had overheard Cordelia. Luckily he didn't seem to have noticed her yet.  
"Sure. Thanks". Not sure what to do with himself, Richie had finally settled on taking a look at the office he'd been brought to.  
"I, er, like what you've done with the place".   
Cordelia looked quizically at Doyle as he past her, hoping for some information as to what was going on, but he just shook his head at her. She got up to follow him, but it was then that Richie noticed her.   
"Hi, I don't think we've been introduced. I'm Richie…Richie Ryan".  
"Hi. Cordelia Chase", she replied politely.  
"So", he began, giving her the patented Ryan grin, "what's a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this".  
"Ah, well, I'm an actress…"  
"Oh, method acting?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.  
"Yeah. My next part is about a secretary in a detective office who works for a vampire, a short Irishman, and TPTB".  
"Who?!"  
"Oh, never mind. I've obviously been working too hard. Oh look, here's Doyle with some beer. That makes a change".  
"Hey, Cordy, I see you met Richie", Doyle commented, handing Richie a bottle of beer.  
"We were just…getting to know each other", Richie replied, grinning at Cordelia, who blushed lightly. He was quite cute, in a boyish way, she admitted. Still, what she really wanted was to know was what was going on. Angel, still deeply buried in his books, was being absolutely no help.  
"Doyle, a word, please. Richie, excuse us". Cordelia dragged Doyle out of the room, into the kitchen, determined to get some answers.   
  
"20-something guy, curly, red hair…I'm guessing this isn't a co-incidence".  
"You'd be guessing right, princess. It was Richie I saw in the vision. We came across him while out on patrol. After he beheaded a vamp, Angel decided he was worth keeping an eye on".  
"After he what?!"  
"This vampire was coming for him, and Richie whips out a sword and after a minute, swish, whack, nice pile of ash on the ground".  
"A sword. Like the one his killer has?"  
"No. A different kind of sword. One that only works on vampires! Of course, one like the killer has. Something funny's going on here, and Angel's determined to get to the bottom of it. Even if Richie does have a sword, he obviously doesn't succeed in defending himself against this guy. He had nowhere to stay, either, so…"  
"So, he's here. Doyle, the guy a total stranger! We don't know a thing about him."  
"Cordy, he's alright. He's from Seacouver. Drove up on his bike just to see LA for a few days. Works as a manager in a friend's martial arts dojo."   
"And carries a sword!"  
"Cordy, relax. He's a nice guy. The sword thing is…strange, I admit. But, if the powers want us to help him. Plus Angel's determined to find out what's going on."  
"And, neither of you thought to ask him? Men!"  
"It's not that simple".  
"Sure it is. I'll ask him. Besides I think he likes me."  
"Fine. You do that. Just…just don't come crying to me if he fobs you off with some stupid, obviously untrue, answer", Doyle snapped.  
"I know about keeping secrets", he continued quietly, as Cordelia flounced out of the room, ignoring him.   
  
Smiling sweetly at Richie as she re-entered the room, Cordelia went to sit next to the young man.  
"So, Richie. Doyle says you're from Seacouver… I've never been there. Nice place?"  
"Yeah, it's ok…"  
"You work in some gym…place?"  
"Er, yeah. It's a dojo. My friend Mac owns it. It's mainly martial arts, classes and stuff. But there's also gym equipment", Richie replied, laughing.  
"I bet you work out loads", Cordelia purred, with a perfectly straight face. At this even Angel looked up, raising his eyebrows. He hadn't known that Cordy was that good at this. He wondered exactly what Doyle had told her about Richie. What did she want from the boy? He caught Doyle's eye. The Irishman was leaning in the doorway to the kitchen, watching Cordy. He gave Angel a small shrug, and a look that said 'don't blame me'.   
Surprisingly Richie managed to meet Cordelia's eye with only a faint blush on his face.  
"Actually, I do", he replied, "But I bet you say that to all the guys".  
"Not all of them", she pouted. Richie just laughed good-naturedly.  
"So, what's this about you and a big, long sword?"   
This time Richie did have to clear his suddenly-dry throat before replying.  
Doyle narrowed his eyes as he watched Cordy, and Angel could tell he thought she was going too far. It was very obvious, to Angel at least, that Doyle was just a little in love with Cordelia. It was also just as obvious that Cordelia thought of Doyle as just a friend.  
"My-my sword?"  
"Yeah, why do you carry a sword with you?"  
"Oh. I, er, I have a fencing competition next month. I need to practice all the time."  
"And you just decided to use it on that vampire? Good fencing skills."  
"Um, just lucky I guess".  
"You sure were".  
"I could…I could show you some moves some time if you like", Richie offered.  
"Sure", Cordelia breathed. Well, he was cute. Very cute, in fact. And he knew about the vampires.  
"Oh, please! Get a room, will you!" Doyle snarled at them, destroying the moment, and storming past them and out of the offices. Cordelia looked to Angel.  
"He'll be alright. He's just jealous. You know how he feels about you".  
"Well, I wasn't sure. I mean he always jokes about it…"  
"Yeah, well, don't worry about it. He knows you don't feel the same. He'll be alright. Give him time."  
"I'm sorry…"  
"It's not your fault Richie".  
"He won't do anything stupid, will he?"  
"Well, this is Doyle we'll talking about".  
Richie just stared at her.  
"No, seriously, he's fine. Probably just getting drunk somewhere".  
Richie nodded, thoughtful. There had been something bothering him about Doyle since he'd first met him. He still wasn't absolutely sure, but was fairly certain now. Doyle was pre-immortal. And, he was wandering around nightime LA on his own, probably soon to be drunk. He doubted it was the first time the man had done that, but Richie had a bad feeling about this. If Doyle died, he really should be there to help. Besides, he couldn't help but feel that it was his fault that Doyle had stormed out.  
"Oh, man", he moaned, as all this went through his mind. He jumped up, grabbing his jacket.  
"I have to find him", he announced, rushing out. Cordelia just stared after him, her mouth open. Angel just shook his head, the mystery deepening. 


	3. Challenges

Chapter Three:  
  
Richie had been wandering around for about half an hour, looking for Doyle. He'd been to all the local bars he could see and kept his mind alert for the presence of a pre-immortal. But, it was being to look like Doyle had vanished into thin air. And that did not bode well. It was just as he was trying to convince himself that he really wasn't lost that he finally sensed something. He was standing at the end of a dead-end alley - not the sort of place to be hanging around at that time of night, and exactly the right sort of place for an Immortal challenge. About half-way down there was a faint, flickering light announcing a bar. A real dive by the looks of things. Nodding to himself, Richie went in. It was so dark and thick with smoke, that it took a few moments for him to see anything at all, let alone the short, dark man huddled over a glass of whisky at one end of the bar. Richie sighed in relief at the sight of Doyle.  
"Doyle! Man, I've been looking everywhere for you. You have to come back."  
"Richie? What're you doing here? Shouldn't you be getting all cozy with Cordel…Cordl…Cordy?"  
"No, it's not like that. How much have you had?" Richie asked as Doyle dragged himself off the stool and tried to stand and face him. He had to grab the bar to stop swaying.  
"Woah…"  
"Come on, you've had enough".   
Richie shook his head, and grabbed his new friend by the arm, steadying him and starting to lead him to the exit. His bad vibes were getting worse. They had just made it outside, where Doyle was now throwing up into the road, when Richie's fears were realised. There was another Immortal nearby. And he wasn't countering on them being friendly. After all, this wasn't Seacouver!  
"Shit! Come on, Doyle, we gotta get out of here. It's not safe." He really wasn't in the mood for a fight, especially with Doyle around.   
"What?"   
But it was too late. A man was approaching, and it was obvious that he didn't just want to ask directions. He was a short, dark man, wearing what Richie thought of as the 'evil immortal' standard uniform. Long back coat, black trousers and t-shirt, black boots, and a smug grin. His left hand was visually itching to pull his sword from inside his coat.   
"Leaving so soon?" he inquired.  
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?"  
"No, but you won't get very far, you know".  
"Really", Richie drawled. By this time, Doyle was just about aware of what was going on and was standing watching with a very puzzled look on his face.  
"Consider yourself challenged, boy", the stranger stated.  
"We don't have to do this. At least let my friend leave first…"  
"I don't really care about your friend, but, maybe he should stay. I think he'll need to know about all this one day".  
"Not today. You want me, you got me, but leave him out it".  
The stranger shrugged, and drew his sword. It was a very quiet ally, so Richie decided it was as good a place for a fight as any.   
"Get out of here, Doyle. I'll be back soon". Unfortunately, the Irishman had seen more than enough to warrant some awkward questions, but it was certainly better if he was safe.   
"Paul Stenn", the man finally introduced himself.  
Richie sighed to himself, focused, and drew his rapier.  
"Richie Ryan". And so the fight began.  
  
It was not anywhere near an equal challenge. Beneath all the posturing and bluster, Stenn proved to be a very average fighter. He attempted to put Richie off with distractions, but Richie, thankful as always for the teachings of Duncan MacLeod, just ignored him, focused and got on with the business of wining the fight. Soon Stenn was on the defensive, fighting hard to keep blocking Richie's blows. Richie just grinned ferally and kept advancing, blocking Stenn against the alley wall. Desperately trying to block the next swing, Stenn overextended, and Richie was able to knock the sword out his opponent's hand. Both men stared at the sword as it went sailing gracefully over to the opposite side of the alleyway.   
"Do it", he told Richie. With a terse nod, Richie did.  
"There can be only one", he declared, with a sigh.  
  
As the full force of the Quickening began to hit him, stronger than he expected, he was dismayed to feel Doyle's pre-immortal buzzing again. He just had time to make eye-contact with the Irishman, who was standing at the entrance of the alleyway, wide-eyed and pale-faced, before he was swept away by the storm.   
  
Regaining consciousness a short time later, he found himself face to face with a very shocked Doyle.  
"What the Hell was that?!"  
"Trust me, you don't wanna know". Still weak he grabbed the wall and pulled himself up.  
"Not good enough", Doyle warned.  
Richie chanced a look at his new friend. Obviously confused and distressed at what he had seen, Doyle seemed willing to give him a chance. There was no real fear in his eyes, not of Richie himself. He guessed he did deserve a decent explanation.  
"Fine. But not now. We gotta get out of here".  
"What…what about him?"   
"No time. If anyone else saw or heard, you can bet that the cops are on their way".  
"Maybe we should just let them".  
"Doyle. Please, I will explain, but can we get back to the office first?"  
Doyle stared at him for a long moment, and Richie began to wonder exactly what it was he was seeing. Or looking for.  
"I hope you know what you're doing", Richie thought he heard Doyle mutter to himself, but thought it best to ignore it and await the other man's judgement.  
"Fine. Let's go", Doyle finally replied, tersely and set off at a much faster pace than Richie, who was still not completely recovered, could keep up with. Doyle didn't seem too interested in waiting for him though, so he settled for trailing him back to the office.   
"Angel is not gonna believe this one", Doyle muttered to himself, trying to find a logical reason to what he had just witnessed. How was he going to explain that their murder victim was a murderer himself? And what was that strange light show all about? He knew that the powers often worked in mysterious ways, but this may take the biscuit. There was obviously something unusual about his friend. Still, it wouldn't be the first time he'd thought that. 


	4. 'Don't Call Me Boy'

Chapter Four:  
  
Meanwhile, in the A. I. offices:  
  
"Angel, you think we should go look for them? What if that guy comes for Richie now?" Cordelia wheedled. Angel put his book on the desk. It was obvious before she'd even asked that Cordelia had made up her mind to go and look for Doyle and Richie. It was safer all round if he went with her. He was no closer to solving this mystery anyway.   
"Fine. Where do you suggest we start looking?" Angel answered, standing and grabbing his coat.  
Cordelia quickly disguised her surprise at not having to persuade Angel. He really must be curious about this one, she mused.  
"The dankest, darkest, dive of a bar within a, um, five mile radius of here", she replied with a smile.  
"Cordelia…"  
"What?! You asked. Trust me, ok. That's where Doyle will be. I'm not being nasty, it's just…who he is".  
Angel's raised eyebrow was his only response.  
"Hey, I can be mature occasionally, you know". Cordelia then marched straight past Angel and out of the door.  
"Are you coming, or not?!"  
Hidding a small grin, Angel followed Cordelia out of the office.  
  
About fifty feet away from the A. I offices, Richie finally began to relax. He thought that Doyle had slowed down a bit, but the Irishman was still some way ahead of him. Close enough for the Immortal to keep an eye on him. He still couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen. More than just the fight with Stenn. He had grown to like the Irishman, and wanted to be on hand if he suffered his first death. As he considered this, and how best to explain immortality, as if on cue, his being began to tingle with the mental call of yet another immortal. He groaned. Brilliant. LA was turning out to be just as packed with immortals as Seacouver. One thing was certain, he was still too weak after the last fight to even think he had a chance at winning a second. He whirled round, trying to pinpoint the source of the buzz. There was a group of men standing outside a building on the other side of the street. As he watched, he noticed one of them - tall, blond, wearing glasses, also begin to scan the area. He finally saw Richie looking his way and nodded his head in recognition. He looked harmless enough, maybe he could get out of this one, Richie mused, as the man made his excuses and strolled over to them.  
  
Doyle watched suspiciously as the blond man approached Richie. Regardless of how he was sure it seemed to Richie, he was keeping an eye on the other man. Still confused, he couldn't wait to hear the explanation for all this. As long as Richie wasn't killed first. As suspicious as he was, he still wanted to trust his gut instinct that Richie was a good guy. He wasn't entirely sure, but thought that the blond could well be Richie's opponent from the vision. This didn't bode well. Turning, he rushed into the office building, only to almost collide with Angel and Cordelia just inside the entrance.  
"Doyle, you're ok!"  
"Is Richie with you? He went to find you".  
"Yeah, but I think he's just met that guy from the vision! What weapons have you got on you?"  
"Stake, knife, gun", Angel stated matter-of-factly.  
"Well, just shoot the bastard and ask questions later. I think I may have a clue to some of this weird sword stuff and we wouldn't want Richie dying on us before we can get the full story, now, do we?" Doyle answered with a grin as he led them outside.  
  
Richie had one hand ready to pull out his sword at the approach of the immortal. The blond man looked calm and not particularly interested in a fight. He hoped the looks weren't deceptive.  
"Richie Ryan", he greeted, "I already had one fight this evening, I'd really rather avoid another".  
"Jack Kennedy", the other returned, coming to stand just a few feet in front of Richie, and staring at him unwaveringly.  
"Your, er, your middle initial wouldn't happen to be F, would it?" Richie chuckled, his voice projecting a calm and cheerfulness he certainly didn't feel. It was an old Richie Ryan trait. Cover up the fear and concern with humour, bluster, and false bravado. It wasn't always something he needed now, since meeting Mac, but there was something almost spooky about this guy up close. He was unnerving, and Richie didn't trust him one bit.   
Kennedy just blinked at him, as if taking absolutely no notice of Richie's lame joke.   
"Let's go boy. Your head is mine", he declared, drawing his sword.  
"Great! Another one! Tell me, what is it about me that says 'boy'? I could be a thousand years old for all you know. Is it my hair? Clothes?" Richie sighed as he drew his sword and tried to play for time.  
"Do we really have to do this now? I'm free tomorrow as well…"  
"Tough. I have a prior arrangement for tomorrow. This evening is scheduled for taking young Immortal's Quickenings"  
"Gee, thanks".  
As they talked, trading barbs, they circled each other, trying to determine each other's style and ability. After a minute Richie decided to go on the defensive and lunged at Kennedy. The other man easily dodged Richie's sword and shook his head at him in mock disappointment. He returned a swift parry which just caught Richie on the arm. Richie frowned. It was obvious that Kennedy was not going to be an easy fight, and, especially considering his weakened state, he may well lose.  
The tentative parrying back and forth continued for some minutes. Richie was already starting to tire, and had taken a few nicks. Kennedy remained untouched.   
"Enough of this wasting time", Kennedy suddenly declared, a smirk on his face. There was a gun in his hand, which Richie was sure wasn't a minute ago.  
"Hey, that's not in the Rules", Richie commented, moving and hoping that Kennedy wouldn't be able to get a good aim at him. Unfortunately, he hadn't realised that he slowly but surely been backed up towards a dead end. There wasn't anywhere to run.  
"You don't win by playing the Rules, boy".  
Richie felt a swearing pain in his left leg as a bullet bit through the flesh. Another followed to his right arm, making him drop his sword. Kennedy just laughed at the expression on his face, and raised the gun to aim somewhere a little more fatal  
A gunshot rang out through the air, and a spilt-second later Richie watched in confusion as Kennedy crumpled to the ground. He turned and saw his new friends running towards him, Angel with a gun in his hand, and breathed a sigh of relief at the narrow escape. What was it with these guys? Didn't anyone play by the rules anymore?! He finally sank to the ground, his leg and arm beginning to heal, shear willpower keeping him on his feet until then.   
  
Richie's relief turned to terror a minute later as he watched a car come round the other corner - heading straight for Cordelia, who was lagging a little way behind the other two.  
"Cordelia...", he began, but he then saw both Angel and Doyle react to his expression and turn at look at Cordelia, even as he tried to shout out a warning. Doyle reached Cordelia first, shoving her out of the way of the oncoming car, only to get hit himself instead. 


	5. Explanations, Part One

Chapter Five:  
  
Cordelia's scream broke the sudden stillness that had been left after the squeal of tyres faded away. It was a testament to Richie's determination as well as his Immortal healing that he made it over to Doyle just minutes after Angel and Cordelia. They both looked to be in shock, not suprisingly. Cordelia was staring open-mouthed at the still body of her friend, whilst Angel was keeping it together just enough to check the damage.  
"He's dead", he declared quietly, as Richie approached.  
"It will be ok".   
"Oh my God, no! No…"   
"Ok?! A good man is dead! Because of a hit and run. I don't call that ok".  
"Angel…" Richie paused, wondering how he could begin to explain that Doyle wasn't permanently dead.  
"Look, I'm sorry. Why don't we get him back to the office for now".   
There was no-one else around, but Richie didn't really relish the thought of starting explanations in the middle of the street.  
As an answer Angel just grabbed Doyle's body and started back towards the office. Cordelia looked lost for a minute then began to slowly follow him. Richie brought up the rear.  
"Cordelia…"  
"It's just not fair, Richie. How can he be dead?! He saved my life!"  
"I know. Life isn't fair". He thought of the trials that the newly-immortal Doyle would now have to go through. He may be alive, but it still certainly wasn't fair.  
Putting an arm around Cordelia whilst she began to cry, Richie steered her back inside, feeling woefully inadequate, despite knowing that Doyle would awaken any minute.  
  
It was fifteen minutes later that Doyle's body, now laid out on Angel's bed, showed signs of life. Richie and Angel noticed the faint intake of breath at the same time, and with it, for Richie, the beginning of the Immortal buzz.   
"What the Hell…?"  
Angel frowned as Doyle's breathing became steadier. After a few minutes his eyes began flickering as consciousness returned to the Irishman, and he groaned in confusion.   
Cordelia, in her grief, finally noticed, and promptly screamed and fainted.  
Richie sighed and went to make her comfortable, seating her in one of the chairs.  
"Wait", he told Angel, as Doyle continued to come round.  
"Oh man. What happened?" the Irishman asked, staring at his friends.  
Angel just stared back at him, whiter even than normal.  
Richie rubbed his face once more and steeled himself to begin explanations. It was turning into a long night. He quickly wandered into the kitchen, and finding what he was looking for, he returned to the other room with a wry grin and two glasses of brandy.   
"Angel, you alright?"  
Angel met his friend's gaze, hardly believing that Doyle was, somehow, awake, talking to him. "You-you were dead…"  
Doyle intake of breath was barely heard before he whispered, "Oh, man, you didn't…?"  
Angel's eyes widened at the question, and Richie watched the growing interplay with increasing interest, wandering back over to the other two men with the drinks.  
"No, I didn't. I-I couldn't…I wouldn't!"  
"You're Immortal". Two shocked faces whipped round in response to Richie's blunt but casual comment. Doyle sat up, wincing at the headache which he assumed was from his injuries.   
"What?! How?!"  
"Here", Richie offered. They took the glasses and big gulps, almost without thinking. As the heat of the liquid warmed him for just a second, Angel wondered if he'd just stepped into the 'Twillight Zone', or whether he was about to uncover yet another of life's little tricks and quirks. Like vampires, demons, and Slayers, and visions from a higher power. The same Powers that had bought Richie and him together, he remembered. With that slightly sobering thought, he tried to focus on what else Richie was telling them.  
"You died. And revived. Your first death. Now you're Immortal. You can't die, not permanently anyway, all inquires will heal, and you won't age…"  
"But that's impossible".  
"As impossible as vampires?" Angel asked, gently, his eyes never leaving Richie.  
Richie swallowed. He was grateful for the sudden, but strange, understanding of the dark man, but realised that more concrete proof was needed. Taking a step back, he carefully drew his sword.  
"You're one too, aren't you?" Angel asked, "I knew there was something - different - about you…"  
Richie gave a 'you got me' smirk, as he swiftly and smoothly raised his sword and slid it into his own chest. It was a nice, clean stroke, not the most painful way to die. As if any way was really pleasant, he thought, as he could feel his body start to shut down, first from the shock, as his body registered the, if mortal, irreparable damage to his internal organs. Of course, there was always the very slim possibility that this time it wouldn't work…With that last, encouraging thought, Richie Ryan knew no more.  
  
Without really thinking, Angel knelt down and pulled the sword out of Richie's cold body. Logic demanded that this was a demonstration, that Richie would be alright, but there was enough human still in Angel to be shocked at his new friend's actions. Could someone just return from the dead like that? Vampirism was one thing - and vampires were never really alive after dying; but Angel had heard Richie's heart beat as clearly and as naturally as Cordelia's or Doyle's. Now it had stopped. But so had Doyle's, and the worst thing affecting the Irishman now was yet more shock and confusion. With quick strides Angel went to the kitchen and returned with the rest of the bottle of brandy, pouring an even larger measure than earlier for Doyle, and after a second's hesitation, another, smaller shot for himself. Doyle gulped the amber liquid down, and Angel took the glass from him before his trembling hands dropped it.  
"Oh, God, this is too much…"  
"Doyle, it will be alright".  
"Yeah? How'd you know? Richie could be completely delusional for all we know. Now he's just gone and killed himself. I liked the kid! You think he'll wake from the dead, like a nice little sleep?! It just don't work that way!"   
Angry and confused, Doyle finally stood up and started pacing. He stopped in front of Cordelia's still form.  
"Is she…?"  
"Fainted. I told you. You were dead. Gone. Then, you were alive. I-I've never seen anything like it before. Are you in any pain, any at all?"  
"No". A frown creased Doyle's forehead.  
"Like it never happened." Angel gulped. "That car did some real damage. You died too quickly for us to even consider getting you to a hospital. Cordelia was distraught…"  
As if summoned by her name, Cordelia stirred at that moment. Doyle knelt by her.  
"Hey, Princess".  
She blinked at him, re-orientating herself.  
"Doyle? Did I fall asleep? I had a really strange dream. I dreamt this car hit you, and Angel and I couldn't do anything to help…And you died!" she half-babbled. She glanced at Doyle and Angel, who was still hovering by Richie's body. She caught sight of Richie's body, his chest still covered in blood, and screamed and fainted again.  
Doyle blinked, stood and looked at Angel, who shrugged.  
"Women", commented Doyle and gave a half-hearted grin.  
"You, er, you think we should clean him up?" he asked, focusing back on Richie. Waiting to see if - when - he came back was starting to make him feel restless and useless. It had only been about ten minutes, but it felt much longer. He wanted to believe his new friend, and Angel certainly wouldn't have lied about the fact that he'd been dead. Doyle had seen some weird shit in his time - Hell, he was half-demon, that wasn't exactly normal, but people who lived forever? Didn't age, get ill? Could still walk in the sunlight? Didn't require a liquid diet? Where was the catch?   
"I guess so", Angel replied, tearing Doyle's thoughts away from exactly what this so-called Immortality could mean. He nodded and went to get a cloth.  
When he returned Angel gently took the cloth from him, and removing what remained of Richie's t-shirt, started to clean up the now-died blood on Richie's chest. That was when he noticed a kind of blue light flickering over Richie, licking at the gash in his chest. As he watched, the wound seemed to get smaller and begin to close up, being replaced with fresh new skin. Richie was healing at an incredible rate. Angel had somewhat increased healing abilities due to his vampire metabolism, and he also couldn't die from such a wound. But it would need weeks of recovery. But this…This was more than just healing fast. This was like a miracle recovery. Or - Immortality.  
"It's true", he breathed, not sure how much he'd believed until then.  
"Holy shit!" Doyle whispered, also looking at Richie.  
"It's like nothing happened", he commented after a minute, "Did that blue flashy thing happen to me?"  
"I don't know. I wasn't exactly watching. Probably, although your injuries were mainly internal. It all happened so fast…"  
Angel looked up in surprise as Doyle raced to the kitchen. He returned with a small, sharp knife. Wincing, Doyle slowly drew a line across the palm of his head, deep enough to draw a fair amount to blood. He wiped enough of the blood away to see and the two friends watched with baited breath. Nothing happened. Then after a few seconds, the quickening flickered across Doyle's hand, quickly hiding any sign of the wound.   
"That's-that's amazing."  
A sharp intake of breath from the direction of Richie broke their revere. Doyle suddenly noticed that the buzzing headache he'd had earlier had now returned.  
After another moment, Richie opened his eyes, glancing around, trying to get his bearings.  
"I hate that part", he commented, catching slight of Angel and Doyle, and remembering what happened.  
"You, er, you do that a lot?"  
"No more than necessary."  
"Each time you just come back, same as before".  
"Exactly the same as before", Richie replied, slowly standing up and going to sit in the chair next to Cordelia. He then noticed his state of half-undress.  
"Thanks", he grinned, "I think".  
"Oh, sorry". Angel rushed to his bedroom, returning a minute later with a shirt which he tossed at Richie. The younger man smiled in response and quickly put it on. Not quite a fit but it would do the job. Doyle and Angel also took seats now, all three knowing that this could take a while. Richie wondered where to start. Now that Doyle believed him, he had to explain all the nasty stuff, like the Game, and not being able to have kids, and not knowing where you came from.  
"Did you have someone to tell you about all this?" Doyle asked, thoughfully, before Richie could begin. Richie smiled, it was a good a place as anywhere to start talking about it. Damn, he wished Mac was here though. Maybe he could get Mac to come down to LA and visit them with him sometime.   
"Yeah. Scared the Hell out of me at first. It's funny, I knew Mac was an Immortal, but I never guessed I could be one. He was a kind of foster father to me, I was living with him and Tessa when it happened".  
"How did it happen?"  
"Gun-shot. Some drugged up punk. Tess wasn't so lucky…" He blinked away the tears that still threatened at thoughts at Tessa.  
"I'm sorry."  
"It's ok. At least I had Mac. Sorry. Mac's Duncan MacLeod of the Clan MacLeod. You guys really have to meet him some time. He's about 400 years, and knows much more about being immortal than I do."  
This aspect of immortality Doyle was, to a degree, more used to. After all, one of his best friends was over 200 years old.   
"How old are you?" The quiet question was from Angel and the intensity of it took both other men by surprise. Then Doyle thought he knew what Angel was thinking. Being a vampire with a soul made Angel very unique. He no longer had any vampire 'friends', if you could call them that, and no human could understand what Angel went through, both as a vampire and as a person that could, baring a misfortunate accident with a wooden stake, live forever. It must give a person a completely different perspective on life. It was something that Doyle hadn't really given much thought to. Now, though, he could see Angel's need and interest. Here were people - normal-seeming, good people - who also seemed able to live forever. Maybe Angel wouldn't be so alone anymore. With a small start, Doyle realised that he had better start thinking of himself as part of the them and not of the us anymore. He was the same. Here was at least one catch, he also realised, remembering how alone Angel always seemed and how he would talk of his family and other people now long gone. What must it be like to watch loved ones grow old and die whilst you remained never-changing? He shuddered, not so sure he liked to think of this aspect of his new life, and wondered if there were other down-sides awaiting him.  
"Twenty-two", Richie replied, after a moment, startled by Angel's intensity. Doyle made his mind return to the conservation.  
"Twenty-two hundred?"  
Richie swallowed a laugh. "Uh, no, afraid not. Just twenty-two. I died for the first time when I was nineteen."  
"Are there many other Immortals? You said this Duncan MacLeod was one…"  
"More than you may think, but it's not something we like to advertise. We're just normal people, only we live longer and don't age. People don't like things that seem different, though".  
"Yeah", Angel replied softly. He had had a fair few encounters with 'scientists' who wanted to know exactly what made vampires tick. Was it a psychological phenomenon? Physical mutation? A seemingly 'tame' vampire had appeared to be an easy target, and there had been times, not long after his curse, that he hadn't been too bothered to fight against them.   
"Richie, this headache I've got, is that anything to do with being immortal?"  
"That's the buzz. It's how we recognise each other. If you concentrate on me, it should lessen". Doyle did, and it did.  
"Oh man, ok, I'd better try and start from the beginning. As I said, the buzz is how we recognise other Immortals…"  
"And those who will be immortal?"  
"Yeah, sometimes. It's part of the Quickening, I think. The Quickening is our soul or something, the thing that makes us immortal."  
"Blue flashy thing?"  
"Yeah, that's part of it. You noticed, huh? I think of it as our energy and power…"  
"Power that someone else may want? That's why you keep your immortality a secret", Angel commented, reiterating part of what was said before. He had a bad feeling about this though. Richie nodded and continued, confirming his bad vibes.  
"Uh, yeah, but we-we also have other Immortals after it. Trying to kill us for it…" He trailed of again, unsure how to really explain the Game. On the surface level it sounded so ridiculous, and so blood-thirsty, how could he ever convince someone to join it. The same way you were convinced, he heard his teacher's voice remind him. Because you wanted to stay alive, and because those who cared for you wanted you to stay alive.  
"Kill?"  
"There is only one way for Immortals to die. Decapitation." He glanced at Doyle, who had gone a funny green colour. Understanding shone in his eyes, though.  
"The sword. And the fight."  
"It's all part of the Game. A deadly Game, to be the last remaining Immortal, and win the Prize. Whatever that is. It's kill or be killed. I had to fight earlier, and that light show was what happens to the loser's Quickening. I don't like to fight, but I do want to stay alive".  
"You mean I have to…With a sword…Oh god!" Doyle looked like he was going to be sick, and neither Angel or Richie could blame him.   
"I'm sorry Doyle. I do know how you feel. I hated the idea of fighting, of killing. Still do. I was a street kid, I'd hardly ever seen a sword let alone kill someone with one. But I learnt, and I win. So will you, if you want to live."   
Doyle just nodded.  
"You'll teach me?" he asked after a moment.  
"Oh. I-I'm still young. I've never taught. Mac's better. He's a great teacher…" Richie faltered. He knew he was still too inexperienced to take on a student.  
"Hmm. Think he'll come to LA?" Doyle asked dryly.  
"Maybe you should come back to Seacouver with me".  
"Can't. My work is here."  
"Work! Doyle, this is a matter of life and death!"  
"So's this". The meaningful look that passed between Doyle and Angel didn't escape Richie's notice. He wondered exactly what the meaning was. He opened his mouth to attempt to ask, when Doyle keeled over in sudden pain.  
"Doyle!"  
He glanced up at Angel, about to ask what was going on. It was obviously something they were used to, as there was no surprise on Angel's face as he watched Doyle. Richie frowned. An Immortal with some kind of illness or disability could never last long in the Game. However, after another few seconds, Doyle seemed to be coming to. Then he blinked up at them, a pained expression on his face.   
"Hey", he said, realising something as his head cleared, "this immortality thing sure gets rid of the mind-crushing post-vision headaches quickly".  
Angel just raised an eyebrow.  
"Just finding the silver lining".  
"So you're still my seer".  
"Yeah, so no trips to Seacouver".  
"Er, visions? Seer? What's going on?"  
"Sorry Richie. I guess it's time we returned the favour now you told us all about yourself. Angel, wanna go first?"  
Angel sighed and wondered how to begin their tale. 


	6. Explanations, Part Two

Chapter Six:  
  
After everything that had happened in the past couple of hours, Angel somehow felt that Richie deserved to know the truth about him. He was also worried about Doyle. Although he didn't want the Irishman to move away from LA - he needed him as both his seer and his friend - he wondered what would happen if Doyle didn't get the training he needed to play this deadly game Richie talked about. Angel was not a great fan of trusting people, especially with his biggest secret, but the events of the evening had drawn Richie into their lives in a big way, and he too was growing quite fond of the younger man.   
  
Playing for time, he took a moment to check on Cordelia. She had fallen into a light sleep, and he decided to leave her where she was. This would be difficult enough to explain to her without her coming in the middle. Her round of explanations could wait. He returned to Richie and Doyle, glancing at his friend, who just raised an eyebrow. Richie noted the look between them and really wished Angel would get on with it. For some strange reason in recent years his liking of surprises had greatly decreased.   
  
With a start, Richie watched as Angel seemed to change in front of him. He jumped back as he recognised the protruding fangs, pronounced forehead and the glowing yellow eyes which had also belonged to the creature that had attacked him earlier that evening. The vampire. Richie gulped. Maybe this was a trap after all? It wouldn't be the first time someone had pulled a fast one on Richie Ryan. His hand wavered, not quite subconsciously, to his jacket and sword.  
"Richie, this is the real me", Angel announced, and then, with a flick of his head, returned to his 'human' face.  
"You're a…a…".  
"A vampire, yes."  
"But you said you killed them?!"  
"We do. I'm a bit unusual."  
"You're looking at the only vampire with a soul", Doyle put in.  
"Huh?"  
"Vampires are demons. They have no souls. I was cursed by gypsies, they gave me my soul back, so I could remember everything I'd done as a soulless vampires, for the rest of my long life". The words came out in a rush. Doyle watched Richie as his friend spoke, wondering how the younger man would react. Richie blinked for a minute, startled, and trying to take this new information in. It seemed it was quite a night for secrets and confessions.  
"So, you're like…a good vampire?"  
"I guess so. I try and help people now, to make up for what I did. Doyle is my contact with The Powers That Be. They send us visions of people in trouble".  
"Oh, I see. I think".  
"There's something else you probably should know. That guy this evening. He would have killed you. Tortured you, then finally cut off your head."  
"You saw this in a vision?"  
"Yeah. It didn't make much sense at first. Now of course…" Doyle shrugged.  
"You guys saved my life."  
"Just doing our job".  
"Oh".  
"Don't mind Angel, Richie. He doesn't like being thanked and all that. Destroys the image. Or the brooding. Or something."  
There was a strained silence as the three men contemplated each other and their stories. It all seemed a bit much for Richie. He was beginning to feel like he'd stepped back into the twilight zone. The sun was coming up, and he realized that they'd been talking all night. He suddenly gave a sudden yawn, and shrugged sheepishly, breaking the tension somewhat.  
"Sorry. Guess it's been a long night."  
"Maybe you should both get some rest. We'll talk some more in the morning. Doyle, give me the low-down on that vision and I'll go check it out."  
"There's a couple of kids about to stumble into a vampires nest. Over on the west-side, near the mall. Shouldn't be too much hassle. "  
"Ok I'll go stir up the nest", Angel agreed, with a slight grin.  
After a moment, they decided that Richie would stay at Doyle's apartment, and the two of them would come back over to the office later that day. They left Cordelia where she was and made their way the few blocks to Doyle's place. 


	7. And End. Or Just Another Beginnning?

The end, at last : )  
  
Thanks to everyone who sent feedback asking for more. Watch this space for a sequal.  
  
  
Chapter Seven:  
  
It was mid-afternoon when Richie finally awoke, wondering for a moment exactly whose sofa he was crashing on. Oh, right, he remembered, Doyle. And Angel. Pretty heavy night. He grinned. In hindsight, he felt quite psyched to have been able to be the one to tell a new Immortal all about Immortals and the Game. It made him realise that he was no longer the newest, wettest-behind-the-ears Immie around. Despite the number of Quickenings he had taken, Mac still had a habit of sometimes treating him like the seventeen year-old he'd been when he had first encountered Mac and Tessa. Now there was a new kid on the block. And, by the looks of things, he could be a friend. Not just one of Mac's old friends, alive for hundreds of years. Doyle was someone he could actually relate to, someone nearer his own age.   
  
As if summoned, the Irishman chose that moment to wander into the living room.  
"Morning. Want some coffee?"  
"Sure. Um, how you doing this morning, er, afternoon?"  
"Oh, you mean the whole I-should-really-be-dead-but-I'm-not-thing? That? Ah, I'd totally forgotten about that."  
"Yeah, right!" Richie grinned. "So, you know I still wanna see LA…You, er, know any cute actresses, man?"  
"Besides Cordy?" Doyle raised an eyebrow.  
"Hey, I swear I didn't know you and her…"  
"We're not. It's cool. I can show you around later", Doyle responded, as he wandered through to the kitchen to make the kitchen. The reality of seeing Richie still in his living room this morning (afternoon?) was having a two-fold effect on Doyle. One, of course, was the fact that he couldn't write off the previous night's events as a figment of his imagination. It all still seemed like a strange, surreal dream. He understood it all, but it felt like it had happened to someone else. Although, he supposed, with a grin, he should be pleased it had happened to him otherwise he wouldn't be here to still be getting freaked out by it. The other effect was that he now had a friend, someone who may actually be willing to go out of a couple of beers with him, without brooding the whole time.   
"So, have you thought anymore about coming to Seacouver?" Richie's question interrupted Doyle's revere, and reminded him that there were bad points as well as good to his new lifestyle.  
He thought for a moment.   
"No. I really think I shouldn't. I mean, there's the visions, and Angel, and Cordy." He shrugged.  
"Well, it's your choice. But, man, I don't know. You could be sword-food within, like, a week…"  
"Yeah…"  
The two new friends let the similar depressing thoughts occupy them for a few minutes.  
"So much for breakfast. Can't say I've got an appetite now. Got anything else to tell me about this Immortality while I'm in the right frame of mind?"  
"Nah. Think I've covered the basics. It is a lot to take in. I was in complete denial when I first realised."  
"So is it like hereditary, cos I think I may have noticed if my folks couldn't get ill an' that."  
"No, er, that is the one other big thing. I wasn't gonna go into this now, but… Immortals are foundlings. No-one knows where we come from, who we are, no family, and we can't have kids…"  
"Oh."  
"Sorry man."  
"Hey, not your fault. Can't say I was very close to my family anyway. There did always seem a strong resemblance though, what with the half-demon side an' all."  
Richie spluttered, his mouthful of coffee landing on the carpet.  
"Demon?! Like Angel, with the teeth and forehead?"  
"No, more like a blue spikes all over my face type thing."  
"Gee, is no-one in this town normal?" Vampires, demons, immortals. Hell, by now Richie was about ready to believe in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny.   
Doyle shrugged. "Cordy? Though of course she did grow up in Sunnydale. Hell-mouth central."  
"Anything else you feel like sharing? Any other dark secrets?"  
"Only if you count being a grade-school teacher."  
"You? You taught grade-school? Ok, now that I do not believe."  
"Funny, Richie. Funny. Anyone ever teach ya not to insult your host?"  
"Come on, teach, let's go check on Cordelia. You gonna tell her what's going on?"  
"Guess I should. Not looking forward to that one."   
Shaking his head, but laughing, Doyle gathered his jacket and keys and led Richie out of the apartment and back to Angel Investigations HQ.  
  
"At last! Doyle! You're ok…What the Hell happened last night?"   
"Good to see you too, Cordy".  
"Don't give me that, Doyle. This helpful thing here won't tell me a thing. Now you've finally decided to grace us with your presence will you please tell me exactly what happened last night?"  
"Sure, Princess. Oh, you remember Richie?"  
"Yeah. Hi Richie."  
"I didn't think it was my place to tell her, Doyle."  
"It's ok, Angel. Take it you sorted that vamp nest out?"  
"Yeah, no problem."  
"Ok, enough. Answers, now!"  
"Geez, is she always this commanding?"  
"This? You should see her on a bad day, Richie."  
Richie laughed and sat down to await the show that was sure to take place when Doyle told Cordelia what had happened to him. After a minute, and another exchanged glance with Doyle, Angel joined him, reassured that the Irishman could handle this on this own.  
"He cares about her a lot, doesn't he? I mean, to just tell her like this. It's not something we do lightly."  
"I can relate to that."  
Richie nodded, solemnly.   
"How do you reckon she'll take it?" he whispered.  
"Hard to say. Knowing me, and coming from Sunnydale, she knows there are more things in the world than most people like to acknowledge. She does have this thing about honesty though. And there are already secrets Doyle's keeping from her. The fact that she saw what happened last night would make it harder to keep her in the dark."  
"Secrets? Like a half-demon side?"  
"He told you?"  
Richie shrugged. "Yeah. Immortals can't have kids, so he thought it was kinda strange about the half-demon side…"  
"You believed all Immortals to be human?"  
"Well I'm certainly no expert. Who knows what we are. As far as I knew, and Mac and all the other Immortals I've been in contact with, we are human, apart from the obvious. But, we could be aliens, from alternative realities, genetic mutants created by a mad scientist or the government. It's as big a mystery as what the Prize is."  
"I take it you watch a lot of science-fiction shows?"  
"Guilty. When your life sounds like one of them, they kind of take on a whole new meaning…"  
  
Their muted conversation was interrupted by Cordelia's small scream.  
"Doyle! Stop!"  
"I told you, I'm Immortal. I died last night. But I get a second chance! Cordy, just watch…"  
Richie grimaced to himself as he saw Doyle run a knife along his palm and show Cordelia how it healed.   
Cordelia's gasp was loud but to give her credit, she recovered well.  
"Wow! And because of this you're alright, after last night I mean?"  
"Yep. Good as new."  
"Oh, God…"   
"Shh. It's alright, Princess. It's still me."  
"I know that. I'm just so…so relived. I didn't know what to think, what was real. Oh Doyle. When I thought you…I saw your…"  
"Shh, it's ok now."  
"No, I-I have to say this. I don't care how it happened, but you're still here, with us. With me. When I thought I'd lost you…"  
"Cordy, for the last time, just shhh," Doyle murmured, capturing Cordelia's mouth in a kiss, that did in fact succeed in shh-ing her.  
  
"Wow. He did it."  
"She took that…surprisingly well", Angel nodded.  
"Or not", Richie replied, as Cordelia broke the kiss and slapped Doyle on the face.  
"Ow! What was that for?!"  
"That's for making me worry, Doyle! I thought you were dead!"  
"Princess, I was dead. I didn't know about being Immortal. How can you expect me to tell you stuff I don't know?"  
"Doyle…Shut up and kiss me again."  
  
Richie laughed, shaking his head at the shocked but delighted look on Doyle's face. Sharing a grin with Angel, he commented, "Are they, you know, gonna be alright?"  
"I think so. I can't think of two people better suited, in LA at least," the vampire replied, a slight look of pain passing over his face. It was a look Richie recognised all too well.  
"Oh, I'm sorry man."  
"It's alright. It's…in the past. It's the future I'm worried about. You know Doyle can't go to Seacouver with you."  
"Yeah. He needs a teacher though. He doesn't know the first thing about swords and won't last five minutes. Not all Immortals are gonna be friends…Geez, listen to me, I sound just like Mac."  
"Well, I have had some experience with swords. And as for living a long time…"  
"I don't know. It's not quite the same. There's like a code between Immortals, and you gotta train everyday. Painful but at least it heals quickly."  
"Is there any chance MacLeod will come to LA?"  
"Doubt it. He's got his dojo and teaching at the university. I mean he might not even want another student."  
"What about you?"  
"What about me? I told you, I can't take on a student."  
"Why not? You seem to know what you're doing. And I'm happy to help out with the sword training."  
"I don't know. Mac probably needs me in the dojo…"  
"Why don't you speak to him? Seriously, you seem to get on well with Doyle. I think you'd be a good teacher for him."  
"Oh. Well, thanks."  
"You know what, why don't we give Doyle and Cordy some space. You go phone your friends. Come round later and tell us what they said."  
"Sure. Good idea. I was hoping Doyle would show me round LA but I can't blame him for having better things to do. Guess I can use a map."  
"I would show you round, but sunlight and vampires aren't exactly compatible."   
  
Later that evening the group met up again. Richie's telephone call to Seacouver had been met by gales of laughter from Joe when he heard about his meeting with Angel and surprisingly little surprise from Mac when informed about vampires, demons and Powers That Be. On second thoughts, Richie had decided, why should it be surprising; didn't Duncan know about everything. The even more surprising conclusion to this phone-conference had been that both Watcher and Immortal had agreed that Richie should stay in LA for a while and teach Doyle, that he was ready to take on a student of his own.   
  
"So I guess you're be sticking around for a while?" asked Doyle, biting into his pizza. Richie considered the underlying request, for about the tenth time that day. Was he really, truly ready to take on a student? Even with Angel's help. He'd only been in the Game himself for a few years. But, he could hold his own, couldn't he? It would be a challenge, but he did like a challenge sometimes. And Mac thought he could do it….   
"It won't be easy," he commented.  
"It beats the alternative doesn't it?" remarked Angel.  
"I don't think any of us remember the meaning of easy, since we started this work. Don't worry, I'll put the effort in. I'm not ready to die - again - just yet."  
"Just don't spend all your time working," Cordelia pouted and kissed Doyle. Richie laughed, pleased that something good had come out of the previous evening's events.   
"I guess you've got yourself a teacher", he agreed.  
There would be a lot of hard ahead, for all of them, but for now Richie knew he could relax, with new friends around whom he could be himself. And there were definitely worse places to be than LA, he thought, grinning. 


End file.
